Poppy Fields
by shrimpette
Summary: Sasori's counting days spent with Deidara with poppies painted on a wall in his cell, and Itachi is seducing the blonde. Will the puppeteer get jealous? Canon is seven years old-because that's when the original version of this fic was written. Warnings: yaoi, sex scenes, angst, major character's death. ItaDei DeiSaso
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own Naruto. This fic is seven years old, so-back then I didn't know who the Akatsuki leader was or what was his name ;) Also, Itachi was still considered a bad guy. I could've changed these parts but I decided to leave them as they're because with Naruto ending... it's kind of nostalgic. No sex scene in this chapter, but all the other ones will have lemons, so it's basically porn with plot. _Sad_ porn. I'm uploading it again because I decided that I _will_ translate the whole thing, and that it's worth it. **

**Oh, and if you've read the Polish version (that would be coincidental :D) and you're worried that I'm stealing or something then please message me, and I can send you a pm from my other account ;) or from the mail connected to it. Or whatever. **

He always quarreled with me about what the true art is. He would calmly argue that everything which could be considered beautiful should be eternal, and I would usually just snap and yell that he's wrong because true masterpieces are defined by disappearing quickly. Whenever I started to get too much into the discussion, he would lose interest in it. As if I wasn't worthy of his attention when I was screaming. Perhaps that's what it was. I'm not sure, even though I slowly tried to embrace this weird calmness and listlessness that everybody in Akatsuki showed.

Even though I respected his views, in the end it turned out that I was the one who was right. Like everything that's beautiful, Sasori disappeared from my life almost immediately.

* * *

><p>When I met him for the first time, he was sitting in his cell, his back turned to me, working with his chisel. I greeted him, not even knowing why, because every idiot could notice that the best thing to do would be to simply leave the room. I couldn't see his face, but I heard his voice.<p>

"Mmm... What do you want?" He grunted, and I got goosebumps because his voice sounded as if it had to get through a thick layer of gravel. He coughed uncomfortably, and started to wait for an answer. The weirdest thing was that I could almost hear him waiting. He stopped working with the wood, his blades got tense, and he put his hands on the desk top in such a way that he was touching it only with the pads of his pinkies, his thumbs and the bottom parts of his hands. This is how I always imagined pianists preparing themselves for playing.

"The leader chose me as your new partner," I stated trying to muster more firmness than I had, and I ran out of it even before my lips were able to create the last word. The word 'partner' was practically stammered as if I was but a little child that was forced to recite some shit poem I didn't learn. I cleared my throat and raised my eyes to look at the ginger, almost red mop of hair, and stubbornly stared into the place where the eyes should be. After some awfully long seconds the ginger turned his face towards me so impetuously that I almost believed that I didn't stop talking yet.

"Why?" He asked simply and pointlessly, naively believing that I could be able to fully answer his question.

"He said that we will fit together, hmm," I babbled indifferently. Sasori returned to his woodwork again. I barely remembered the color of his eyes.

"How?" He snorted in a mean way. The question was obviously rhetorical. He was an anorectic-looking boy with frayed, scarlet hair, and dark blemishes under his brown eyes, and I was a blue-eyed, lively blonde, slim but healthy-looking. I smiled softly, feeling some weird kind of relief only because this fucked up ninja decided to accept my company. As if I believed that he could not agree to something that was already decided by the leader. And yet I was still happy. Obviously, Sasori did not want to have a partner but I had a feeling that for something not wanted his reaction wasn't the worst.

"We'll see," I replied cheerfully and went into my room.

After some days he got used to me. Actually, one could say that he acted as if I was here since always. Whenever he was speaking, he might seemed cold and harsh, but he was never hostile. Actually, it was the opposite of hostile-he would allow me to do everything that didn't disturb him directly. That's how Sasori's cell became my habitual residence. I used mine only as a place to sleep and store a lot of ugly, temporarily useless things.

My companion's room was beautiful in its own way, even though it lacked an artistic disarray and verve. It seemed too precise, too orderly, too well-planned. And yet I kept calling it beautiful. After my arrival, the ginger started to decorate the walls of his bedroom with a painting of poppies. I thought that it was pretty pointless but since that time I started to associate these flowers with Sasori. And not only because of their color. Such a simple thinking would be derogatory for even a shinobi, not mentioning an artist. The resemblance between my partner and a poppy was that they were both fragile. I don't know anyone who would call these flowers sturdy. They would fall apart seconds after being picked, sometimes even during this action. They even looked as if they were going to fall apart. And yet they were able to resist the wind. It was magical. This strange fragility caused me to pick every poppy I could find. I wanted to find at least one that would stay intact. I wasn't able to do it. All of them died as a confirmation of my belief that beautiful things disappear quickly. And yet I kept on picking them.

Another bedazzling thing about Sasori's behavior was how easily he succumbed to my touch. Three days after my arrival, when I got bored with the silence and looking at him doing things with his piece of wood, I started to stare at him. I'm convinced that he felt this stare, it was insolently importunate. I eyed him, judging every little part of his body with my eyes. All of them seemed thin and emaciated, just like on the first day. Only the hair looked different. At first I only noticed that they were ginger and frayed. Now I saw them as chestnut, almost scarlet, matt and neglected. I rolled from the bed and without even thinking about it, with all the verve that one could expect from a tall blonde, I put my hand among the red strands. He shrugged, not expecting my touch, but he calmed down almost immediately. He didn't turn towards me to ask what in the hell I was doing, he didn't come back to his work. He froze, waiting for me to tell him what I wanted from him. Or perhaps he was simply shocked. I don't know, I never wanted to think about it too much, I was afraid that I could come up with some dangerous conclusions.

"You have to get your hair cut," I muttered in this special tone that informed everyone around me that _I_ had another problem. "I will cut it for you after you'll take your shower, hmm," I proposed and waited for him to disagree or react in any other way, but it seemed quite pointless. Sasori never said more than he had to. Whenever he accepted something, he would simply sit quietly. It was something that impressed me a lot but, and, simultaneously, annoyed me. I sighed like a martyr, ruffled his hair and came back to 'my' spot on his bed.

"Deidara." When he spoke up, I was so shocked that my eyebrows furrowed on their own. "Are you a woman?" I tilted my head. I felt strangely flustered. I knew that for some people guessing my gender could be difficult because even though my voice was rather low I had a rather girly hairstyle but I assumed that he already figured it out. Now it seemed that even though we were made partners three days ago, he wasn't interested enough to learn my gender. I snorted with resentment. My laugh was short and forced.

"No, master. I'm a man, hmm," I replied.

"You act like a woman," he stated. I don't think that he was joking. Even thinking about him joking was sickening. I furrowed my eyebrows. Perhaps he didn't want me to cut his hair? But then again, it would be much easier and faster to simply say 'no.' I doubted that he would get involved in such a long (by his standards) conversation just so I would leave his hair alone.

"Is there anything wrong with it?" I inquired trying to hide the fact that he hurt my manly pride.

"I simply said that you're acting as a woman," he rasped in the direction of his desk, putting one of his chisels into a leather tool bag. He got up from his stool and cleaned his pants from all the sawdust. "Take your scissors," he ordered and left the room. I looked at the doors, completely dumbfounded, and dragged myself out of the bed, automatically straightening the bed linen. I never did it in my room, but leaving this cell in a mess seemed extremely inappropriate. I straightened the cover for the last time, looking at the small piece of painting that was already being created on the wall. I knew that Sasori already gave it a name. 'Poppy Fields.' Right now it showed only three flowers. One for every day I spend with him. I smiled to myself, and rebuked myself for even thinking that. Claiming that I was so important to him that he would count the days spent with me with flowers on a wall was not only stupid but also improper. Nonetheless, since that day, I systematically checked the number of buds. It was always consistent with the number of days we spent together. Even if we were going out for a mission that lasted more than one day, the correct number of poppies was added with scrupulousness worthy of a better cause.

I was cutting the red, soft strands absentmindedly. Sasori's wet hair were so dark that they seemed black, only glistening with red. They were short and nice in touch but I knew that they would get matt and rough when dry. I made him use a conditioner and he didn't protest. I smiled widely. I had a cat once, and I had to wait for several months for it to allow me to stroke its belly. When I was finally able to put my hand there, I felt excitement and happiness because the animal trusted me enough to be in a position that would put it in danger and believed that something good will happen. It was the same with Sasori. I was happy that he kind of submitted and allowed me to do whatever I wanted, and yet he seemed to believe that there wasn't even the slightest chance that I could hurt him.

I was playing the hairdresser in a place that could be called an anteroom to the actual bathroom. There were six big mirrors and white porcelain sinks in there. The chair on which Sasori was sitting was taken from one of the empty rooms. The bathroom was located underground, and the walls were made of stone, so it was extremely cold in here. When someone was bathing, they would use hot water so the cold wasn't as troubling but if a person was in here for an extended period of time, it was quite awful. The ginger wasn't shaking, he seemed completely immune to the temperature. Back then I was thinking that it was just a part of his stoic image. Now I know that it was so because his body was made of wood. I had to wait till the first mission to learn about it. He didn't tell me this, he just let me learn it. Later on he was talking about it as if I knew about it since always and there wasn't anything that would need explaining. He didn't want to tell me why, how and what for. I asked once, and he just stared at me, visibly disappointed. As if he expected something else from me-more tact, gentleness, perhaps just lack of interest. I don't know. It's another thing I never asked him.

The floor under our feet was covered with his red hair. The scissors were lying uncomfortably in my hands, hurting my fingers. I didn't complain about it and patiently made a grade. I combed out the dead hair absentmindedly. His hair started to dry and the careful strokes of the comb made it shine. I was fascinated with this image. I imagined a bloody wave running through a red sea.

"Don't look him in the eyes." I heard Sasori's hoarse whisper. I looked up to see who he was referring to. I saw a rather short, slim and pale brunette. His ponytail was long enough to reach beyond his blades. They hypnotized me. His whole body looked like a skeleton wrapped in skin. And yet he didn't look as unhealthy as Sasori. This man could be best described with the word 'ethereal.' He seemed to be fragile like a butterfly. Beautiful, black butterfly. It wasn't until much later that I noticed the crimson pattern on its wings. I didn't listen to my master and looked him in the eyes. They were glowing with a terrifying dark purple, but they were beautiful because the long eyelashes that were making a sound similar to the crunch of insects legs whenever he fluttered them were complimenting them perfectly. I blinked with surprise and returned to my work pretending that I still find it as amusing as I did before. I ruffled the ginger mop, trying to forget about the young brunette. He was almost perfect, the only thing that was ruining his beauty were two ugly furrows under his eyes and expression so indifferent that it seemed to be crazy.

I sighed, tired and cold. I started to yawn when I noticed that Sasori is standing up from the chair He was much shorter than me. I smiled with amusement. And then my eyes grew wide because the ginger put his too-short-for-me coat on my shoulders. I looked at him bewildered and put my arms into the sleeves.

"I told you that you'll get cold dressed like this," he muttered angrily opening the bathroom doors and walking into the corridor. I ran after him, noticing the brunette's mean smirk.

"Now you're treating me like your girlfriend," I complained and wrapped myself even tighter in the coat.

"If you're acting like this, then it's pretty obvious that you want to be treated this way," he replied, clearly not interested in the conversation. I knew that he wasn't saying that just to humiliate me. And especially not because he wanted to make fun of me. He didn't do it because he didn't care for any of those things. His mean comment was an answer to a question I didn't pose. I laughed shortly and followed my master.

* * *

><p>A few months later I saw the brunette again. It was early summer. I was coming back from my training in the nearby woods, and he was sitting on a bench, looking into the sky. When I was passing him, he quickly corrected his position and sat in such a way that one more person could fit in there.<p>

"Good morning, senpai," he greeted me kindly. I froze for a moment, not knowing what to do. He was much stronger than me, and, from what I've heard, he wasn't stupid, so he had to know about it. He was also a veteran in Akatsuki. I looked at him with a surprised expression on my face-he didn't seem to mock me. I was older than him but he had no reason to address me like that. Unless he wanted to be really polite.

"Deidara, hmm," I corrected him and sat next to him.

"Uchiha Itachi," he introduced himself in that quiet, deep, rustling voice of his. The air had a bland smell.

"Coconut shampoo doesn't suit you," I muttered carelessly. He looked at me with his head tilted. His eyes weren't crimson but black. I noted that fact. Sometimes I could swear that there is a purple tint hidden behind the dark iris. Well, being with Sasori taught me at least one thing-to not ask.

"Are you our hairdresser?" He inquired.

"What? No, why would you..." I stopped mid-sentence. I remembered our last 'meeting' and its context.

"That's a shame," he said as if he was encouraging me to do something. "I could use a trim, too," he smiled spitefully. "You left an awful mess in there, you know."

"I don't care," I replied and he looked shocked. If I could manage the same with Sasori, I could die knowing that I did the impossible. With Itachi it was only difficult. "I could cut your hair. I think that your blue friend isn't able to help you with that."

"Hoshigaki is a famous warrior," he answered, slightly offended.

"And yet I believe that he can't do shit with scissors."

"I guess so," he admitted and yawned. "Will you be in the headquarters today?"

"I think so, yeah," I replied and stood up. Uchiha followed me, slowly climbing the steep steps.

"See you in the evening, then," he said and put his hands in a seal, disappearing in smoke.

"See you," I snorted in the direction of stairs. As long as he was with me, the stairs didn't seem like such a big problem, but when he disappeared in the cloud of dust, the steps got longer, steeper, and I could also swear that they multiplied. I didn't need any other reason to hate them.

xxxxx

When Sasori found out about my intention to help the young Uchiha with his hair, he muttered something hoarsely and started to unscrew a puppet he just finished. He usually communicated with people with grunts so I didn't really care about it. I lay more comfortably on his bed. It seemed unused. Mine, after only four months, had some very personal indentations, and his was only indented by me. Due to his specific body he probably didn't even need to sleep but Sasori didn't even lie on it. Every time I would come into his cell, he would be sitting on his little stool and sculpt, grind, varnish and soak things in poison. One or twice I saw him paint another poppy. Fragile flowers started as few thick blots and were finished with firm strokes of his brush. There were already a little bit more than one hundred and thirty of them, and they were taking just a small portion of the wall.

"How many more are you planning to paint, hmm?" I asked with an unwanted admiration audible in my voice. He stopped his work for a moment and turned his face towards me. He didn't do it very often, he would usually talk to his desk, so any communication between us was pretty hampered.

"I don't know," he answered simply, admitting that he didn't plan all the details of his masterpiece. "I hope that many more," he added and came back to fixing a doll that wasn't broken. "When you're finished with his hair, clean up after yourself,"

"Yessir."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I still don't own Naruto. Please keep in my mind the warning from the previous chapter-this fic is in 65% just sad gay porn (so it _does_ have some plot). If you're more into plot-please check out my other fic 'Repair' (it's narusasunaru). **

**So, another part's translated and I hope that you'll find it entertaining. I don't think there's anything I could get reported for but _please_ remember that this fic is rated M for a reason :) Oh, and also the canon is seven years old. I didn't know that Deidara had a mouth in his chest. **

* * *

><p>I admired the dark, silky smooth strand of hair. I was carefully snipping the ends of his hair, breathing the sweetish coconut smell. We were alone in the bathroom, and I believe that we might had been the only people on the whole floor. Itachi was sitting with his eyes closed, pressing his cold fingers against his eyelids. He didn't say a word and I was so used to Sasori being silent that I even considered it enjoyable. Uchiha was almost completely cold in touch. Only on the nape of his neck, just under the line of hair, there was a small hot and fragrant spot. The smell of body mixed with soap and shampoo. I found it extremely soothing. I was driven to this spot, so every time I cut a strand, I would rub against his neck, tilt my body just so I could smell this warm aroma. He didn't seem to notice this, he was just sitting with his mouth slightly open. At the beginning there was a thin strand of saliva connecting his bottom- and upper lip; it bursted quickly enough, and the tiniest wet spot appeared, but it dried off almost immediately.<p>

I saved all of these images in my mind, preparing myself for a discussion with my master. The moment, when Itachi opened his eyes and fluttered his insect eyelashes, the moment when one brown lock of hair fell on his forehead, when he was parting his lips... all of these disappeared within seconds, leaving only a shadow of a memory. I sighed with irritation at the argument of my imaginary Sasori. Uchiha was beautiful regardless of all these moments. I snorted. Perhaps he was right, but Itachi will eventually grow old and stop looking so good. In comparison to the world's age, it was almost fleeting. I smiled knowingly at the red mop of hair, and snorted quietly. Even in my head Sasori was turned back to me.

"What are you laughing at?" I didn't know if it was due to the time of day or boredom, but the brunette sounded unusually quiet, somewhat throaty, and yet softly. He could be voicing some diabolical swan. A black diabolical swan.

"At my master," I answered simply and he wrinkled his forehead. Apparently he resigned from asking about my snort. I fixed his hair one last time.

"Do you want to come to my place?" He asked nonchalantly, standing up from the stool and letting the loose hair fall on the floor. I kept silent for a moment, and then agreed to his proposition. The brunette smiled unnoticeably and put his arms into the coat. He shrugged when the fabric touched his skin.

I would lie if I told that being with Sasori didn't make me unused to all of these human reactions. My master was never shivering, his teeth didn't chatter, his skin didn't sweat or itch. His eyes weren't as wet as those of other people's. He didn't have any hair except for that wig. There were no strands of saliva between his lips which would never get dry.

Uchiha wasn't someone whom I could honestly describe as 'human'-there was way too much grace in his movement, his figure was way too symmetrical, and he was always acting as if there was someone watching and judging him. He didn't do things in an easy way no matter how effective could it be. He would close his eyes when he was throwing kunais. His voice was rather quiet and confident. And his manners were extremely good. I never wanted to call him perfect because that would be too much. Itachi was weird, skilled and dangerous. And yet I thought that every human thing about him was a miracle-I would admire even the smallest details like his fingerprints. Everything that my master was unable to do or couldn't have seemed wonderful and beautiful.

* * *

><p>I knew what I agreed to when I answered 'yes' to Itachi's question. I wasn't really in the mood for it, it was too fast for me, I didn't even have the time to actually think this through. I agreed only for one reason. I was certain that Uchiha wouldn't repeat his offer and I wasn't willing to lose something I might desire in the future.<p>

That's why I wasn't surprised when he locked his cell doors and told me to sit on a narrow bed. The room wasn't very different from mine-except the fact that my desk was covered in clay and the gray rug was crumpled. The brunette's room was kind of tidy-he wasn't really cleaning it up, he was simply putting stuff where it belonged. Another difference was a small bookcase filled with scrolls and a simple dresser. He evidently lived here much longer than I did. My clothes and scrolls were heaping in some random places. I smiled wryly and sat comfortably on slightly crumpled bed linen.

Uchiha sat down half a meter from me. I winced at this unnecessary distance. I used to believe that it will just start somehow-that he will grab my hand, embrace me, kiss me, whatever. The brunette made the first move and he didn't seem to have any problems with it. Now it became obvious that he wasn't as convinced as he wanted to appear, and his nervousness mixed with embarrassment was clearly visible-his lips formed a tight line and his hands were twitching. Itachi wasn't panicking in the most visible way possible-a normal person, perhaps even a shinobi, wouldn't had noticed it. Well, as I've said before-I was observing him carefully, After the abstinence that Sasori imposed on me I embraced every human reaction I could notice.

I smiled to myself seeing how the poor kid was mumbling about something irrelevant with a lazy frown glued to his face. I wasn't even listening to what he was saying. It wasn't important. The tone of his voice was still confident. Its timbre was a completely different thing-it didn't sound like rustle anymore, and some words were spoken in a suspiciously high pitch. He was half-lying, his back against the wall and his thin, bent legs were barely touching the other edge of the bed. Normally they would reach the floor. Fingers of his gently bent feet were firmly buried in navy blue linen. His unnatural, tense position only made me even more certain that if nothing will happen right now then our acquaintance will end just as hopelessly as it started. A ruthless teenage murderer with some trivial erotic problems. I sighed, unable to decide whether the whole situation was more funny or irritating, and kneeled above Itachi's stomach. He fluttered his insect-like eyelashes and eyed me suspiciously. His arms were resting at his sides.

"Aren't you uncomfortable?" I asked teasingly, whispering into his ear and let down his hair. I was almost disappointed at the fact that I couldn't feel his erection.

"Perhaps just a little bit," he snorted, slightly offended and pressed me against his loins with such a force that I found green bruises on my thighs the next day.

Uchiha straightened up and rested his back against the wall. We were so close to one another that I could feel the fabrics of our shirts rubbing against each other with every breath we took. His chest was moving slowly, too slowly, almost inadequately slowly, but still heavily enough. I closed my eye, taking off my shirt and untying the knot on my ponytail. My light blond hair fell on my shoulders, scattering around my neck. One of the strand jabbed Itachi in the nose and made him frown. I shivered feeling how his cold fingers moved across my side, stopping for a brief moment every time they could feel a rib. I cupped the brunette's unhealthily hot chin, trying to kiss him but he just looked at me in a nasty way and bit me just above my left collarbone. I tried to protest but the words died in my mouth when his bony arms pushed me and laid me on the bed. The position was quite uncomfortable-my legs were spread apart in a pretty weird angle. He lifted his hips and allowed me to readjust it, then pressed me against the mattress. That's when I noticed that he wasn't wearing his shirt anymore.

Well-if I was ever uncertain about who would bottom in this parody of a relationship, it became pretty clear now. I spread my legs wider wondering what he'll do. He rubbed against my genitals as if I was a woman. He didn't try do anything with my penis or anus, he was just pressing pointlessly against my testicles. He snorted something hoarsely and lifted himself, practically sitting on my stomach. I opened my mouth awaiting the kiss I wasn't getting for a very long time-for several second his hot breath was tickling me and we kissed only after I lifted my head with impatience. I moved my lips, trying to make the kiss deeper but he moved away with a spiteful smirk on his face. I blinked my eyes in sudden realization-the boy wanted me to think that despite his awkward moves I was the one who wanted this more. I raised my eyebrows and allowed myself to look at the ceiling with resignation. Itachi didn't seem to notice it, completely immersed in his own little world. I smiled and unwillingly compared the kid to Sasori. Uchiha was slightly taller, much more feminine. And even though he was trying so hard, there were moments when he was losing his control.

I pulled the brunette in the direction of my loins, noticing with satisfaction that for a moment he stopped breathing. I put one of my hands on his hip, pressing him firmer against me, and rested the other just below his magnificent blades. He moaned raggedly feeling the moist touch of my tongue there. I grinned matter-of-factly, hearing the bed creak softly when Itachi leaned above me. He touched my cheek with shaking and wet hand, then he dropped it on a pillow next to my head and kissed me on the lips. He opened his black, disappointed eyes and blinked crunching loudly. I could feel his hot member pressing shamelessly against my abdomen. I growled with approval and spread my lips so his moist, intriguingly cold tongue could get inside. The kiss was unusually long, and he was rubbing against me, moaning quietly until I sighed with pleasure, too.

My thumbs pulled his pants down, and in the back they stopped somewhere below his ass. In the front the textile was were hanging on his erected penis, and Uchiha, stopping his kiss, almost angrily pulled the pants down to his knees, and then took them off completely. I smiled to myself, noting that none of us was wearing underwear.

I closed my eyes and let him undress me, simultaneously studying the skin on his thighs-it would get goose bumps whenever my cold fingers were touching it. I found his hand which he was using to stabilize his position and pulled it to my mouth, making him lose his balance for a second. Uchiha was getting more and more still as I was lying my kisses on his thin, somewhat short and inelegantly scarred fingers. He moaned with surprise when I brushed over the soft tissue of his hand. Now he was practically lying on me, panting and looking as if nothing more was supposed to happen. I wouldn't mind it, perhaps I would even prefer it, but after some pleasantly long seconds Itachi took some lube out of his pillowcase.

He smiled at me hesitantly, and turned me so I was lying on my stomach. I snorted shortly, feeling his penis somewhere between my testicles and anus. Well, it wasn't his first intercourse, there aren't many people who would have their 'first homosexual sex' with someone they might meet again. Unless it was one of these silly relationships in which the partners were 'in love' with one another. And yet I knew that Uchiha wasn't very experienced. It didn't surprise me because the boy was quite young-he wasn't even twenty at the time. It didn't comfort me, I didn't really want someone so green to come into me. I still don't know why I even agreed to it.

The brunette's hands grabbed my hips and pulled me upwards, making me kneel, my legs slightly spread apart. I shivered when I felt his fingers covered in lube entering my anus. From what I felt I guessed that he was also lubricating his penis with the other hand. After some time the round lube jar rolled between my legs, stopping in of the indentations of the bed cover. I sighed quietly and kicked it off the bed. It fell on the gray rug. In the same moment I felt unnaturally slippery tip of Itachi's member pressing against my entrance.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered and I wasn't sure whom he was talking to.

Seconds later a part of his penis was already inside of me. I felt relieved when I noticed that he wasn't moving and wanted me to get used to the situation. I have to admit that I'm not a fan of bottoming. I was even more sure of it when Uchiha moved carefully inside of me, trying to get deeper. He panted heavily and I could feel every throbbing vein of his manhood. The pulsation inside of me was getting faster, sometimes it would stop but it would immediately start again. Thanks to it I was able to relax and get some pleasure out of it. Itachi pushed a couple more times, and, when he was completely in me, he stopped for a moment savoring the feeling. One of his hands reached my inner thighs, and caressed me in a soothing manner. I moaned ruggedly when some of his fingertips gently touched the base of my dick. The dark-haired man quickly backed off with his hand and froze in place, muttering something to himself. I could feel dark, cold chakra dancing around me-the technique seemed weak. I wasn't surprised when he asked me to look him in the eyes. I didn't object because the genjutsu was easy to break. I didn't regret it.

The illusion worked in such a way that I could feel what he was feeling. It seemed so real that I moved my hips, wanting to thrust into myself deeper and harder. I felt the opposite thing because part of Uchiha's penis slid out of me. I sighed with disappointment and then moaned with pleasure when the brunette embraced my waist and pushed himself deeper into me. Itachi's moves became bolder, he was also changing the rhythm of his thrusts every now and then, not allowing me to come too quickly. During this intercourse I didn't act as a fully fledged shinobi-I was moaning, groaning and sighing. My eye got all watery, and some random tears started to fall down my face. My arms weren't able to support my weight for too long, they eventually ended up lying by my sides and I was biting the pillow, trying to be not too loud. I don't know how long did it last but it felt as if I was in a trance. Finally, after several seconds I realized that Uchiha did not only stop thrusting into me, but he also pulled his penis out of me.

He was laying on his side, one of his arms was embracing me gently, his eyes were closed but he wasn't sleeping. I stopped myself from voicing my disapproval and touched my inner thighs and the insides of my ass, trying to find any trace of sperm. Well, they were moist but it wasn't semen. I blinked with surprise, feeling more disappointed than ever. I turned my back to the brunette, deciding that I'll relieve myself using my hand. I was still angry.

When I spread my legs apart to get a better access to my genitals, I noticed with surprise that Uchiha grabbed one of my legs and held it for me. I snorted something and started to masturbate. I was frustrated, disappointed, humiliated and still horny. Just a few moves of my hand and tongue made me came, and I deliberately allowed my cum to hit Itachi's sheet. I could finally smile, but it was still pretty wry. The smile disappeared when the brunette hugged me again and pulled me closer to himself. I frowned when I felt his fully erected penis between my legs. I turned my face to him, not paying attention to his member knocking about my thighs.

"What the fuck, hmm?" I growled pointlessly, and, to my surprise, I got my answer.

"That was tantra," he replied in a bored voice.

"Tantra doesn't look like this," I muttered to the wall.

"No, it doesn't. But they had only one good idea-if a man has an orgasm, then he loses his strength and concentration, what makes him an easy target." After this confession I just looked at him, blinking with my only eye and wondering whether he was mad or just stupid. I yawned.

"Are you tired?"

"Yeah," I grunted back at him, trying to stand up from the bed.

"I'm not," he stated and covered his eyes with the palm of his hand. "That's because I didn't have an orgasm."

"People have sex so they can come," I answered angrily, wondering if this discussion had any sense.

"It's pleasant enough without orgasm. And now you're completely useless," he noticed quietly watching me look for my clothes. He smiled nastily when I couldn't figure out how to wear my shirt. When I walked out from his cell, I yelled at him that I'm going to make him come whether he wanted it or not, and he looked almost as satisfied as if he had ten orgasms in a row. I hated him for it.

I was silently walking up the cold steps, cursing myself for being so lazy that I didn't even want to stop for a moment and put on my sandals which I was holding in my hand. When I finally ascended the stairs, I noticed a faint light in the crack between the floor and Sasori's room doors. I smiled to myself and headed towards my own cell. When I was passing my master's doors, I noticed that the room is completely silent. I pressed my ear against the doors, still unable to hear the characteristic sounds of chisel, paintbrush and the ginger's wooden feet. I didn't knock and simply went into the cell which I knew better than my own.

Small lamp was the source of light. On the desk, among sawdust and little jars which were labeled with a beautiful handwriting, was lying Sasori, his face hidden in his arms. I got closer to him and realized that his eyes were closed. If it wasn't impossible, I would think that he fell asleep while working. I leaned above him, wondering what I would do if he died. I calmed down when one of his fingers twitched when I poked him. He looked almost kind of sweet, and so not like usual-like angsting teenager. I squatted near my master and put his right arm around my neck. I noticed that his shirt's fabric got stuck between the hinge and his forearm. I pulled it out, happy that the ginger was still unconscious. Whenever his body was a problem he was getting violent. I put my left arm around his waist and lifted him, so I could put him in the bed. His condition was still shocking.

That's when Sasori opened his eyes. He blinked slowly, not saying anything and still relying on my arm for support. I doubted that he even knew that he wasn't just standing on his own. I got him into the bed and laid him on the pedantically even bed cover. I lay beside him, observing this alien, wooden body filled with deadly garbage. I poked him in the chin. He turned his bored face towards me.

"He fucked you," he grunted and stopped looking cute. Well, beauty is fleeting, Now I was facing an angry scorpion.

"How do you know?" I asked, grinning like an idiot.

"I can feel your penis poking my thigh" he said and I found it extremely funny so I laughed cheerfully. My master frowned with disgust, and then sat on the bed, planning to get up. I stopped him by grabbing his shirt. He looked disapprovingly and I randomly kissed him in the elbow.

"What do you feel?" I asked quietly, pulling him closer to me. To my surprise, he didn't yell at me and even agreed to my silent plea and lay down again.

"Touch," he muttered, covering eyes with his forearm.

"How?" I inquired, barely stopping myself from saying something that would indicate that he was made out of wood.

"Between the wood and this... material," he whispered, the last word barely audible. "There's a thin layer of chakra. Thanks to it I can feel the outside world... whenever something... or someone touches me, chakra in accumulating in that spot because it's spread on a smaller surface than before."

"So there's no difference between what's touching you-whether it's wet, dry, warm or cold?" I almost shouted, not being able to understand why he was so okay with it.

"No, there's not," he growled, warning me to not press the matter any further. I ignored the warning.

"And what did you need that for?" I asked stupidly. He looked at me with eyes that could kill the painted poppies in a second. Luckily, I was already immune to them.

He didn't say anything afterwards and I started to insolently barge onto his bed, crimping the sheets in the process. My master's body was cold but it was quickly warming up due to my own body heat. It was all made of hard materials and I had to avoid the stomach area because of the weapon hidden in it. And yet despite all of these flaws I remembered that moment as one of the most pleasant ones in my life. My eyelid was getting heavy, I was falling asleep. Knowing that this piece of wood was Sasori made me wrap myself around the ginger in order to embrace him. I shrugged with surprise when hard hand of the master, which was just covering half of his face, landed softly on my temple, pressing my cheek with well polished fingertips. I opened my sleepy eye, gaping into a shaded chin framed with red hair.

"Some years ago Orochimaru was my partner," he whispered into the ceiling. I was able to understand what he was saying only because he trained me so well in listening. "The both of us wanted to be immortal. I thought that I was able to do it better-after all human body is so fragile, it's so easy to destroy it... and I had to care only about my heart, I could reconstruct every part of me, I didn't have to struggle like he did. I was always looking young. I believed that I was eternally beautiful, indestructible. I was beyond the fleeting nature of human life. He also wasn't agreeing to that, he didn't want to grow old, he didn't want to die. But Orochimaru... he had to change his vessels every couple of years. That was putting him in the danger of dying, for many reasons. I couldn't understand why did he want to still remain human. After all, being human was what we we're trying to escape from... but now... I'm not sure who was able to do it better," he stopped. He was saying it so quietly that I wasn't sure whether he's saying that just for the sake of saying it or if he actually wanted to be heard. I didn't reply and Sasori didn't seem to await my response. I closed my eye again, pushing everything he just said into the back of my mind and focusing on falling asleep.


End file.
